


Punishment

by Thanatopsiturvy



Series: In Search of Nine Lives [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Azarahd is a Good Dom, Consent is Mandatory, Dom/sub, Explicit Consent, M/M, Nords are Prudes, Praise Kink, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 18:51:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17986694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thanatopsiturvy/pseuds/Thanatopsiturvy
Summary: Onmund seeks out the Arch Mage to apologize for spying on him the previous night. He expects punishment, one way or another...





	Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome back to Azarahd's adventures through Wonderland-I-mean-Skyrim! Enjoy some more shameless, kinky, smut. 
> 
> I'd say it's important-ish to read the story that comes before this one in the series, but it isn't absolutely necessary. You get the picture.
> 
> In my world MIRABELLE SURVIVES DAMN IT.   
> I thought that was so cheap that they killed her off at the end of the main College quest... I get that it was to "logically" provide a reason for making the Dragonborn the Arch Mage, but I still call bullshit.   
> So, considering the DB just kind of up and leaves for months at a time, I think she would function well as Vice-Arch-Mage. SOMEBODY gotta run that school, right?

Onmund worried the hem of his robe as he paced back and forth in front of the Arch Mage’s quarters. He _needed_ to apologize for what had happened the other night. He had no right doing what he had done, spying on that… incredibly private moment between him and Enthir. And the Arch Mage _saw_ him! He was just thankful that the Khajiit hadn’t gutted him right then and there. He heard their claws could take down a cave bear. Such a fearsome race they were. All raw power and muscle and…

 

Onumnd shook his head, slapping his own cheek lightly.

“Focus, damn it,” he hissed to himself, finally finding the resolve to put his hand on the door handle and push into the stairwell. His soft footsteps echoed off the stone, his pulse loud in his ears as he slowly took one step at a time. As he reached the top of the stairs he could hear voices – it seemed the Arch Mage wasn’t alone. Someone was talking to him.

 

“You haven’t been yourself, Azarahd,” came a woman’s voice. It was Mirabelle. _Oh Talos, was she sleeping with him too?_ Onmund felt guilty for thinking such things, but burned with curiosity none-the-less.

“How could I be anything other than myself?” came the low rumble of the Arch Mage’s voice.

“Don’t try to speak in riddles to me,” Mirabelle scolded. “I’ve known you long enough at this point to see when you’re mind is clearly somewhere else. You know you _can_ talk to me, if you need to.”

“There is nothing to talk about. My personal matters are my own, but I thank you for your kindness. You have enough to worry about with running the college while I’m away.”

“Speaking of which, will you be giving a lecture before you leave tomorrow?”

 

The Arch Mage was leaving? Again? He’d only just returned a few days ago. This was Onmund’s last chance to make things right.

“Yes, yes, of course. I have a lesson planned.” Onmund could hear the smile in the Khajiit’s voice. “Spell cloaks.” Mirabelle let out a scoff.

“If this is just to get back at J’zargo, then you know I can’t approve,” Mirabelle laughed, her voice echoing like a soft bell off the vaulted stone ceiling.

“I swear to you, I would never…” the Arch Mage paused mid sentence and Onmund heard the sound of swishing robes.

 

“Whoever you are, you may enter. I do not appreciate eavesdroppers,” came his sharp call. Onmund blushed deeply, walking around the corner. The Arch Mage’s features twitched when he laid eyes on him.

“Sneaking around, Onmund?” Mirabelle asked innocently, causing the Nord to blush even more deeply, especially at the knowing look the Arch Mage gave him.

“I… I came here to have a word… a word with the Arch Mage,” he stuttered, staring at the stone floor in front of him. “Privately,” he added. He heard Mirabelle sigh.

“We’re going to have a faculty dinner in the Hall of Countenance in about an hour,” she said, turning to Azarahd. “Shall I see you there?”

“You shall,” the Arch Mage nodded. She walked gracefully past Onmund, always the perfect picture of dignity.

 

“Come in, Onmund,” the Arch Mage beckoned, turning away from the Nord and moving to stand in front of his enchanting table. He pulled a dwarven dagger out of one of his pockets and began to slowly unweave the magical enchantments that surrounded it, studying it closely.

“Am I to assume you wish to speak about what happened the other night?” he asked, his thick accent belied by his impeccable grasp of Common. Onmund swallowed thickly.

“Yes, Arch Mage… I… I wanted to apologize. It was terribly out of line and it won’t happen ever again, I promise. I just… heard noises and was still up. I let my curiosity get the better of me and…” He knew he was rambling. “Please, please forgive me.”

 

The dagger dissolved in the Arch Mage’s hands as he unraveled the last strand of enchantment. He dusted his hands off, righting himself.

“You are forgiven,” he said, far too simply.

“…What?”

“You are forgiven,” he repeated more firmly. “Or did you not understand?”

“No… I… understood. It’s just… shouldn’t I be punished?” Onmund pressed, his brow creased in concern. The Arch Mage laughed loudly, leaving the Nord feeling particularly stupid.

“Onmund,” he chuckled, his rumbling voice and sensual Ta’agra accent causing Onmund’s stomach to flutter. “Do you think you should be punished?”

 

The Nord opened his mouth to speak, but closed it hastily, unsure of what to say. His eyes shifted to the side as he began to unconsciously pick at his fingernails.

“Let me rephrase the question…” the Arch Mage interrupted, stepping towards the shorter man.

 

“Would you _like_ to be punished?”

 

Onmund felt his face go cold, but the words went straight to his groin, his cock twitching with interest.

“I... I… I’m not sure…” he stuttered, taking a small step backwards. Azarahd’s facial expression softened.

“Please let me know if I am misreading you,” he clarified. Onmund let out a shaky breath.

“No, it’s just… I’m not sure… what to do…” he admitted, pulling at his hood nervously.

“Well, you clearly feel as though you deserve to be reprimanded,” the Arch Mage inclined his head to the side.

“…Yes…” Onmund replied breathily after a moment. The Arch Mage smiled at him, feral and clever.

“So how would you like to be punished?”

 

Nearly a dozen scenarios played through Onmund’s head, most of them either involving him bent over or on his knees. He wrung his hands, worrying his bottom lip.

“I… when I was… when I misbehaved growing up, my… I would be… bent over a knee…” he attempted, his head swimming with arousal at the thought of the Arch Mage doing such a thing to him. The Khajiit purred knowingly at his words.

“I think that is a fitting punishment,” he agreed as if it were perfectly natural for a grown man to suggest he be spanked. The Arch Mage strode past him towards the stairwell, disappearing for a moment. Onmund stood in the center of the room awkwardly, eyes wandering to the floating lights that drifted lazily around the large tree that grew in the Arch Mage’s personal apothecary garden.

 

Soft footsteps drew his attention back as the Arch Mage returned.

“We shall not be disturbed,” he explained, walking past Onmund and over towards his large bed. “Come.” The Nord skittered after him like an obedient puppy. He watched in heated anticipation as the large Khajiit sat down on the side of the bed to face him.

“Remove your outer robes,” he said calmly, golden eyes watching Onmund, calculating and piercing. Onmund undressed with deliberation, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

“Come here,” he gestured towards himself and the Nord shuffled over obediently.

“Now pull down your pants.”

 

Onmund’s breath hitched in his throat. _This is actually happening_ , he thought frantically. Slowly, he pulled the waistline of his pants down to just reveal his backside, his half-hard dick still concealed.

“Very good,” the Arch Mage purred, patting his lap. “Lay here.” Onmund cautiously bent over, pressing his forearms against the Arch Mage’s right thigh, his hips draped over the left. His erection sprang to life even more at that small amount of contact and he knew there was no way the man didn’t feel it against his leg.

“Listen carefully,” the Arch Mage interjected, one hand resting on the small of Onmund’s back. “If at any point you want me to stop, if you decide this is no longer what you want, I want you to say… hmmm…. Ancano.” Onmund couldn’t help the bark of a laugh that escaped his throat.

“Ancano!?” he laughed, his voice high and hysterical to his own ears.

“Yes. It is a mood killer, wouldn’t you say? And something I would never expect you to utter otherwise,” the Arch Mage explained with a small chuckle. Onmund nodded, swallowing. He certainly felt less scared, less out of control, but no less aroused.

“Ok,” he agreed out loud.

“Good boy,” the Arch Mage rumbled, running one of his large hands across the Nord’s firm ass and Onmund couldn’t help the keening whine that escaped his lips.

 

The first smack was loud and startling. Onmund let out a yelp, quickly lowering his head to bite one of his knuckles. The Arch Mage soothed over his firs strike with a few soft stroked before lifting his hand and applying the second. Onmund didn’t yelp at that one, but as the third and fourth hits came he found himself groaning lowly in his throat. The sting was an exquisite pain, one that left his body tingling and his mind blissfully blank. He lost count after ten, each strike increasing with vigor, leaving the skin on his rear feeling hot and tight. The Arch Mage always made sure to stop and soothe a hand over his ass after every few strikes, leaving Onmund with a raw, vulnerable feeling in his chest.

“Such a good boy,” the Khajiit purred, close to his ear, his right hand sweeping the hood back and away from Onmund’s face before running a hand through his short, brown hair. _Slap_. “Asking for punishment, even when you are forgiven…” _Slap_. The Arch Mage’s free hand, trailed across Onmund’s throat, applying light pressure and forcing the Nord to look up at him. He locked eyes with him as the next slap came down hard on his ass. Onmund cried out, squeezing his eyes shut as his cock wept against Azarahd’s thigh.

 

His ass was beginning to go numb as the Arch Mage alternated between his left and right cheeks. Suddenly, Onmund felt the Khajiit’s middle finger slip between the two, brushing delicately over his entrance. The Nord let out a startled cry that turned into a breathy, wanton moan as the Arch Mage applied just a small amount of pressure. He unconsciously rutted his cock up against Azarahd’s thigh, finding delicious friction as he did so.

“Hmm… a sweet spot, perhaps?” the Arch Mage teased, gently stoking his hand across Onmund’s throat before applying more pressure, forcing his head back even more.

“Please…” Onmund managed, his voice tight and desperate.

“Hmm… that is not part of the agreed upon punishment,” came the response. The Khajiit pulled his finger away quickly before dealing another torturous slap to his ass, ripping a strangled cry from Onmund’s throat.

“Please, please, please,” he chanted, almost like a prayer, beginning to feel lightheaded from his restricted breathing. The Arch Mage paused, loosening the pressure on the Nord’s throat. Onmund took a deep, gasping breath on impulse.

“You ask so nicely… I think perhaps you deserve it.”

 

Azarahd leaned over to his bedside table, grabbing a small vial of oil out an apothecary satchel. Onmund practically mewled.

“You have done this before, yes?” Azarahd asked, breaking out of his domineering demeanor for a split second. Onmund nodded, still panting.

“I want you to speak.”

“Yes! Yes… I have,” he remedied, letting his head droop, forehead resting against the Arch Mage’s thigh.

“Good. Very good,” came the purring response. Onmund breathed deeply as he felt the Khajiit shift above him. He let out a startled yelp as the cold oil suddenly made contact with his sensitive cleft, dripping across his tightly puckered hole, causing him to shudder.

“Shush now… _fea_ … _bago_ … yes, _serush_.” Hearing the native Khajiit tongue rolling off the Arch Mage’s tongue went straight to Onmund’s cock. This was _so_ forbidden. So… _taboo_. He felt a rush of exhilaration that was only heightened when he felt the firm pressure of a finger nudging him open.

“Aahh!” he couldn’t help but cry out. The Arch Mage brought his other hand up to Onmund’s mouth, covering it. He whimpered against the soft pads of his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut and focusing solely on the gentle burn of his abused rear and the pressure slowly opening him up.

 

The Arch Mage took his time, purring soft little Ta’agra phrases into Onmund’s ear as he worked his ass open, the Nord’s cock pressed tightly against his thigh. Onmund whined and moaned into the Khajiit’s large hand, sweat beading around his temples, his body pulled as tight as a bowstring. He had begun to rut against the Arch Mage’s leg in a stuttering rhythm as the thick finger worked its way in and out of his ass. He felt himself reaching his climax and he open mouth moaned against Azarahd’s hand, embarrassed that he was so close without once having his dick touched, but also aching for release.

 

He came with a shudder and a loud groan, curling inwards and nearly biting down on the Arch Mage’s palm. The Khajiit laughed lowly, letting the Nord’s hips slow to a halt before removing his finger and gingerly pulling Onmund’s trousers up over his bright pink backside.

“A fitting punishment,” he purred, stroking Onmunds hair fondly. The Nord’s head lolled lazily to the side on the Azarahd's thigh, his expression blissed as he turned to look up at his Arch Mage.

“Thank you, sir,” he breathed with a small smile.

 

He helped Onmund get to his feet, cleaning the front of his pants with a quick flurry of a spell that Onmund had never seen before, bright like a mage light but gone with a pop.

“What spell is that?” he asked, his words slurring together.

“It’s an old Bardic spell I picked up in Solitude. Nothing more than a party trick, most of the time, but it can come in quite handy.” He paused. “How are you feeling?”

“Um…” Onmund shifted slightly, still a little unsteady on his feet. Azarahd reached out and put a firm hand on his shoulder.

“A little sore, I guess… but… nice? Warm? Floaty. I feel floaty,” he grinned drunkenly, eliciting a deep, bubbly laugh from the Khajiit.

“Floaty… I like this word. Come here.” He reached out and wrapped Onmund up into his large, muscular arms. The Nord tensed for a moment, unsure as to what he was supposed to do, but then relaxed completely. He melted against the Khajiit, his hands coming to rest on either side of Azarahd’s narrow waist. It was… just a hug.

“I hope that I won’t catch you spying again,” he murmured against the Nord’s temple. Onmund pulled away, shaking his head.

“No sir. I promise,” he implored, and meant it.

“Good. Because if you find yourself looking for release, all you need do is ask, yes? No sneaking,” he chuckled with a wink. “Now, I have a dinner to attend. I shall walk you to the courtyard.”

 

And so he did. As if it were natural. As if he hadn’t moments ago had Onmund bent over his knee, finger fucking him. As if it were normal for a Nord to want to do these things with a Khajiit. As if the man had nothing to be ashamed of. And perhaps he didn’t. Onmund bid Azarahd farewell and began to walk back to his quarters in the Hall of Attainment, smiling to himself.

 

The Arch Mage sure was a strange and powerful man…

**Author's Note:**

> *confetti* Onmund has at least two new kinks! At least... 
> 
> Ta'agra Translations:  
> fea - quiet  
> bago - open (sometimes 'door')  
> serush - beautiful 
> 
> Azarahd understands the importance of consent and safe-words, and you should, too! 
> 
> I was trying to describe his alignment to a friend of mine, and we've decided that he's Lawful Neutral - he has a very strict moral code that he adheres to, but it isn't necessarily a *good* moral code. He will kill and steal without a second thought. But there are certain things he just does not approve of, and one of his Big No's is non-consensual sexy times. The guy clearly loves sex, but wants everyone involved to also love sex. (Also he's got a big old soft heart, but shh it's a secret).
> 
> The spell he used to clean Onmund up was essentially the DnD spell "Prestidigitation", which I always think of as a silly Bard spell.
> 
> Also, if it seemed like Onmund was fetishizing Azarahd for being a Khajiit, it's because he was. PSA: Don't fetishize people for their race. It's not cool.


End file.
